An Act Of Kindness
by FictiveCreator
Summary: Lost in the depths of his ripper ways can Stefan actually have a conscience and perform an act of kindness?


Seated comfortably in a wooden chair at one of the tables, drink in hand and foot tapping along to the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising" as it plays loudly from the juke box of this out of the way bar I had come to, I was merely minding my own business. Taking in the sights as it were; or more rightly so, selecting my next play thing. The place was obviously a popular one for the locals and as such was packed with patrons drawing their day to an end. Beers were flowing freely and raucous bursts of laughter would frequently overpower the incessant background noise of idle talk. The conversations that passed between the many who gathered here were nothing out of the ordinary. In fact I had grown bored of it rather quickly.

I concentrated instead on the waitress who flittered about the busy establishment picking up emptied glasses and depositing orders of hot wings and chilli cheese fries to the patrons who had claimed tables and ordered food. She wore a friendly enough smile and flirted here and there with the regulars in the hope of receiving a tip. There was no denying her attractiveness. What, with those toned legs that seemed to go on forever. That pert little butt of hers, barely covered by a pair of cut off shorts, the exposed skin of her abdomen and the white tank top that was tied in a knot just below her generously sized breasts. Hell, I may be dead for all intents and purposes, but I wasn't -that- dead.

Target chosen, I down the remains of my bourbon and lift my newly emptied glass into the air to draw her attention and beckon the waitress over. She hoists those crimson pillows of hers and flashes ivories in an opulent smile, one that reaches the sapphire jewels of her eyes and weaves her way through the maze of bodies and tables. "Well hey there handsome. Can I get you a top up?' As she extends a slender arm to reach for my empty glass I take hold of her wrist, capturing it in my grasp. She startles at the suddenness of my actions and her eyes widen in response. With a deliberate tug, I cause her to spin on her feet and land in my lap. "Well that depends." I taunt with reply. She forces a laugh but it fails to cover the fact she is more than a little uncomfortable. She plays along though and elevates a single, meticulously shaped brow, "On what handsome?" I take my glass from her hand and place it back on the table top, giving it a slight push so that it slides into the centre. "On what's on offer." I whisper as I lift my hand to run the tip of my index finger along her pulsating jugular. She moves her neck from my reach and offers a nervous giggle. "The bar has almost every drink you can imagine, handsome." She tries to push herself up from my lap, not wanting to stay where she is. I tighten my hold and force her back down. Her tone changes from the flirtatious one she had been using all night to one of sternness and warning, while concurrently adhering a glare of annoyance to my viridian spheres. "Let me go!" A chortle of dark proportions is given life and I shake my head in response to both her suggestion that the bar would have whatever drink I desire and her demand to be released.

Taking possession of her mind with practiced ease I cease her attempts to leave and she resigns herself to my lap. Walking two fingers up the underside of her forearm, a predatory grin is brandished. "I'm yet to find a bar that stocks the kind of drink I like." Her curiosity wins out over her attempt to ignore me, still holding onto her grudge that she remains in my lap despite her best efforts to vacate it. "And what would that be?" Her tone is venomous and I match my emerald hues to her azure ones as my fingers continue their path up her arm and return to the side of her neck. "I'm partial to a nice drop of red, a little on the warmer side... say around 98.6." A puzzled frown deeply furrows her previously flawless brow and she spits out an acerbic reply. "There's a microwave out back, I'm sure they could accommodate your weirdness. Now, let me go or I'll scream." I remove my wandering digits from the soft, delicate skin of her neck and apply my index finger gently against her lips and murmur a second coercive instruction. "You will do no such thing. Besides, why trouble the wait staff when I have all I need right here in my lap?" A shocked gasp accompanies her hasty inhalation and her heart beat elevates in speed as fear takes hold but yet confusion still lingers in her beautiful features, not quite sure of my finger departs from her plump pillars of flesh and my hand takes ownership of hers. I manoeuvre her wrist to face upwards and bring it to my lips. Gifting the desirable flesh with a tender kiss before allowing animalistic canines to taper to their piercing points and penetrate the skin. Her wounds permit access to the ambrosial nectar that flows through her frame. A quiet moan of delectation sounds from my throat as hungered gulps of the invigorating claret are reaped in effort to slake my thirst.

Absorbed by my actions, the tap to my shoulder comes as somewhat of a surprise. Emitting a subdued growl at the interruption I extract my ivories from the waitress, skate the tip of my tongue over my lips, cleansing them of any traces of blood and turn my head to face the perpetrator. Anger for the man who stands by my side radiates from onyx spheres yet I'm denied the time to question the intruder to his reasoning behind his disturbance as a blow to my jaw by his fist is received. Such action is quickly followed by a gruff voice demanding answer. "What the hell do you think you're doing to my girlfriend?" Taking a moment to compose myself from his assault, I hold my position and the position of his supposed girlfriend in my lap, looking up at the muscular man. His actions have drawn to us many sets of intrigued eyes. It's not the audience that concerns me, but rather their ability to identify me once I have offered my retaliation. The benefit of feasting on human blood was that it strengthened my abilities and by sending out a wave of compulsion I remedy such undesired attention.

Returning focus to the boyfriend I answer his question, the use of a tone that signifies a lack of intimidation from his size or his threatening demeanour is deliberate. "Sharing a drink, perhaps you would like to join us. Please..." I move my leg and kick at the chair next to me. A scrape sounds from the floor as the foot of the chair shifts against the wooden floorboards. "... sit." I nod my head at the chair and a dumbfounded look comes over the man as he finds himself lowering into it. I make a display of checking over the woman seated in my lap, as though looking for something before locking chartreuse optics to the man again. "Your girlfriend you say?" I lift a mocking brow to emphasise my rhetorical question but continue on without leaving time for acknowledgement. "I can't seem to find your name anywhere. So tell me, where does it say this young beautiful woman is yours?" The glazed over eyes of the waitress dance from her boyfriend to me, unsure exactly of what to do but she manages to find her voice. "Just leave him be Jack." Jack pipes up, anger emanating from his words. "He has his hands all over you and I'm just supposed to pretend that it's okay? You're my girl, he has no right. No right at all."

Amused laughter erupts from my chest and I spy the knife that is positioned at his side and hold out my hand. "Pass me that knife of yours Jack." Perplexed by my demand yet unable to disobey, he fiddles at his side and frees his knife from its case, handing it over. I admire it briefly while I speak. "Tell you what Jack, how bout you carve your name into her flesh and I will gladly leave her alone. You know, with her being -yours- and all." Jack is flabbergasted by the outrageousness of my stipulation and stutters in disbelief, not sure if he heard me right. "Y-you w-want me t-to do w-what?" Without batting an eye, I stare directly into his astonished eyes. "You heard me. Look, I'll even start it off for you." With blade in hand and a maniacal grin plastered on my face I peer down at the waitress's exposed stomach and drag the tip of the knife over her skin forming the letter J. She gasps and gives an utterance of pain, but still held under the power of compulsion she does little more than that. Blood oozes to the surface of her newly inflicted wound and I return the knife to Jack, jerking my head towards the marking I urge him to finish it off. "Go on." His hand begins to shake and he fights against his body's want to lean forward and complete the task he has been issued. "You said she was yours. Prove it."

An audacious grin lines my lips as I watch Jack fight an inward battle which he stood no chance of winning. His hand continues to shake as it closes the knife in on its target and he whispers, "I'm sorry babe." With that, he brands her with the last three remaining letters of his name before dropping the knife to the floor in disgust. "You're sick. You know that, don't you?" Still luxuriating in Jack's obvious discomfort I snort at his insult, "It's been brought to my attention. Now, tell me Jack, how much do you love her? How far would you go to save her?" Disconcerted by my question he hesitates before answering. "I would do whatever it takes." I nod my head with satisfaction for his answer. The malachite pigment in my gaze diminishes as pupils expand with one final compulsion. "Then take that knife and plunge it deep into your heart." Jack's eyes become void of emotion and almost robotically he bends and retrieves the knife from the floor, one last protest falls from his lips. "But that would kill me." Eying the waitress's neck, I lift both shoulders to form a shrug of indifference to his predicament. "Exactly." The waitress pleas for me to put a stop to this but her requests fall on deaf ears as I caress her neck. Instead, I whisper against her ear, "Shhh. It will all be over soon."

Glancing over the waitress's shoulder I watch as Jack positions the tip of the blade against his chest, helpless against the compulsion. With one forceful thrust it penetrates deeply. His eyes bulge and he grunts loudly in pain. I can hear the beat of his heart as it reacts to the deadly blow. Life abandons him with pleasurable slowness and as he sits dying in his chair I bury my fangs into his girlfriend's neck. Drawing her blood with greedy swallows, her heart too begins to slow as life fades. I thought it was a rather generous act on my part. After all, I couldn't have them torn apart by death, not now that she was his.


End file.
